Golden Rules

My boss, who will heretofore be known only as Dr. Oz (due to a striking similarity in looks and demeanor) imparted to me, quite early in my tenure in his office, the three golden rules of medicine. They are as follows:

1. Don't fuck your patients.

2. No matter what you did, you did the right thing, because you were there.

3. Get out alive.

The first is pretty self-explanatory, if a bit obvious. And not much of an issue, given that most of the women in our practice look like Burt Reynolds' stunt doubles.

The second is meant to reassure me and other Officers of the House that when we eff things up in the middle of the night due to a healthy mix of incompetence, exhaustion, and fear, that we couldn't have done any better. And furthermore, that we should be applauded for our mistakes just as loudly as our victories. Not sure how I feel about that one.

The third point drives at self preservation. It used to be that docs were encouraged to forsake all else (family, friends, hobbies) in favor of the JOB. The CAREER. The DUTY. The ART of medicine. It still happens to some. We call those people internists. These are the people who only find their genitalia at the age of forty when they finally notice on one of their trips to the bathroom that they are leaking urine from somewhere and decide to investigate. Already, I've met a couple. The Tortoise, and the Badger. More on them later.

Rest assured, I've safe-guarded myself against burn-out. I'm part of generation now. Being one of the me-first, fuck-you kids who are mostly illiterate and addicted to TV has its perks. I spend most of my days thinking about the car I want to buy next or where I want to build a house.

Six year old girl, acute asthma attack. Audi. S4. The one with the glass roof.

Ten year old boy, post MVA with splenic rupture. No. Maybe a Merc.

Fifty-five year old man, fat as a hog, wheezing and clutching his chest. Should I get an iPad? Are they dumb or cool? How would it look in my new leather bag? Would it even fit?

A voice careens headlong into my train of thought - a nurse barks in my ear. "Doctor! This man needs an ECG now! And some nitro! We can't just do nothing" I slide slowly down in my seat.

Clearly, she's never heard of rule 2.